Cold Comfort Confessions
by Evangeline Henri
Summary: The abyss makes for strange bedfellows. Remus is lonely, Severus is waiting, and Sirius is entirely too far away. (Sirius/Remus, Remus/Severus). Slash


**"Cold Comfort Confessions"**

By: Evangeline Henri

Rating: PG-13

Summary:  The abyss makes for strange bedfellows.  (Sirius/Remus, Remus/Snape).  Slash

Archives:  Do, please, but tell me so I can visit it.

A/N:  This takes place the night before/morning of the return of Padfoot in PoA, when everything came to pass.

Dedication:  As always, to Atalanta de Lioncourt.  And to Yumie.  I love you both, though in obviously different ways.

*****

"Sirius, there's something that I need to tell you.  Before I do, though, I want you to know that I'm not crazy.  I know there's a very good chance this spell won't work, that you won't be able to hear me; you're no doubt hundreds of miles away.  And even if this does reach you, I don't know if you'll care.  

"Still, I need to say this; I need to confess.  Lord knows, I have enough on my conscience from these last twelve years; something like this could drag me under for good.  I can feel the waves lapping at my toes.  And even if this is all in vain, it'll be one less demon to exorcise.  So, here I go.

            "Last night, Severus Snape came for me.

            "It was late- those strange, amorphous hours between midnight and dawn when nothing and no one is as it seems.  Torn between yesterday and tomorrow, it's the abyss.  You used to tell me that two a.m. was the demon on your shoulder.  I never knew what you meant until you were gone, and I had to face it alone.

            "I was sitting in the teacher's lounge, grading papers.  At least it kept my hands busy.  _Explain, citing sources, the life cycle of the Grendel, and its affect on the wizarding community of Munich in 1682-94._  An assignment I had given, one that you would never have deemed worthy of your time.  You would have mocked me while I diligently completed it, snatching away my scroll to read what I had written (probably very similar to Hermione Granger's essay, which I was then plowing though).  'Muggle fear and suspicion of wizardry, which had been steadily increasing ever since the poorly-concealed Black Forest Grendel Breeding Fair of 1678, boiled into violence on May 8th, 1682, as the Grendels began to reach maturity and terrorize the countryside,' you'd intone studiously.  I would have smiled indulgently at your antics, given you a peck on the cheek, and then shooed you away to let me work in peace.  Though, I doubt you would have listened, meaning mine would have been much more hurried and less thorough than Miss Granger's.

            "The creaking sigh of the oaken door interrupted both my work and my reverie.  Startled, I nearly dropped my quill.  As it was, two drops of ebony ink splashed onto Hermione's immaculate essay.  I frowned.  That would not do at all.

            "I looked up, and Severus was approaching me.  Muttering the charm that would clean my mess, I waved a hand to him.

            " 'Having trouble sleeping, Lupin?' he asked as he swept towards me.  His robes swished behind him, a black trail that was only made more impressive in the sketchy light of the fire.

            " 'I could ask the same thing of you,' I replied, and though there was a time in our lives when such a comment would have been tinged with malice, I was just tired then.

            "This is about as good a time as any to explain Severus to you.  About nine years ago, Dumbledore offered him a position here as the Potions master.  The appointment didn't really surprise me; how many cauldrons had we seen Snape hovering over during our school years, concocting something sinister or other?  And he had proved his loyalties during the crisis, if you remember; not even you could begrudge him his bravery for that.  Severus was a hero.  Not like you.

            "I know perfectly well that Severus was most displeased with Dumbledore requesting me to join the staff this term; Harry was even kind enough to warn me that he was after my job.  I guess he thought our mutual dislike was rooted in professional jealousy.  I had not the heart to explain the whole story.

            "Still, having Severus here has been an invaluable experience.  His skill with a cauldron means that he can brew me my wolfsbane potion.  I'm sure he only started offering the service at Dumbledore's strong urging, but I am nevertheless grateful to him.  The stuff does wonders for me, and you know potions have never been my forte.

            "Out of my gratitude, there has been some cessation of hostilities.  I know you'd never approve, but often I feel that I cannot spare any energy on unnecessary enemies.  Dealing with my loneliness takes up enough of it.  We're sort of in a limbo, he and I.  Looking past years of hard feelings is difficult, and sometimes I get that old familiar urge to throttle him.  I wouldn't call us friends; yet I think we have been managing rather well.  He's not really all that bad.  It sounds so strange, to say that Severus Snape and I can actually tolerate each other, but I like it.

            "He still hates you, though.

            " 'I was just taking a walk, when I heard a sound.'  Standing there, he was the very embodiment of steel discipline.  Were I a student, I would probably hate him.  Many do (Harry being one of them).  But, as I am not, I rather admire his teaching skills.  He can incur total silence in a classroom with a voice that rarely travels above a whisper.  I do not always agree with his methods, but the results are commendable.

            " 'Give it up, Severus.'  I had to smile at his suspicion.  What a fitting turn— Snape as a professor, patrolling the corridors.  How fate must love surprising us, for Severus himself was renowned for his nocturnal antics as a student.  Do you remember, all the times we'd meet him at night, our tempers flaring, our hands balled into fists?  And now here he was.  'It was probably just Peeves.'

            " 'It was Potter,' he snapped.  'I can't prove it, and he'll never admit it, but it was him.'

            " 'Peeves, Severus,' I pressed, although he was most likely correct.  Enduring loyalty to the Marauders, I suppose- and their offspring.  'Go back to bed.'

            "'I'll catch him one day, though.  Mark my words, Lupin, I'll do it.'  He's fanatical about Harry; the only person I've ever seen him bear this much animosity for is you.  'Always gallivanting about as if he owns the castle- the boy too closely resembles his father in that regard-'

            " 'Severus.'  That's one thing I forgot to mention- how we keep civil.  Namely, we do this by staying far from the past.  We never discuss what happened all those years ago; he manages to convey his hatred of you through thinly veiled comments and passing snipes.  He's tolerably subtle about it, yet I always notice.

            " 'What?'  He said absently.  I doubt he even knew what he had been saying.  He blinked like an owl, and, realizing that he had been ranting, a slight blush came to his face.  'Oh.  Sorry about that.'

            "I never knew Severus could apologize.  Then again, I would have never thought he could blush, either, but there you had it.  'It's alright.'

            "He nodded.  'For a minute, I had almost forgotten-' he trailed off.  

            " 'Almost.'  He coughed.  'Anyway, would you like to come up to my chambers?  I've been working on a dissertation on anti-zombie wards.  It's been a pet project of mine for years.  That sort of thing's your area of expertise, so I was wondering if you'd care to take a look at it.'

            " "Zombies?'  I smirked.  'Severus, if you'd like some company, you needn't make up stories.  You only have to ask.'

            "Severus snorted, though it came out more like the whinny of an agitated colt.  He glared at me.  'I am not looking for your company, Lupin.  I am not some gawky teenage wizard who is averse to being alone!  I am a highly respected educator, with a plethora of interest in a bevy of subject outside of my teaching curriculum.  Including zombies.'

            " 'Of course,' I said.  He has always been insecure like that.  Always keeping his credentials close at hand, ready to wave them in our faces at a moment's notice.  As if he was always worried that we didn't think he was good enough.  Which, I suppose, was true; we never did.

            " 'However,' he continued, 'should I choose to invite one of my colleagues to engage in an intellectual discourse on one of the aforementioned subjects, that is entirely acceptable.'

            " 'Entirely,' I echoed.

            " 'So, would you like to come up?'  His tone had lost that lofty academic bravado, and underneath it was the true Severus Snape.  In that moment, it occurred to me that I never would have recognized him.  In all our years of tormenting this person, had we ever even come close to meeting this inner voice?  

            "How well I had always thought I knew then the people I loved, and how wrong I had been about them.  Especially you, Sirius.  How could I have never realized that I was making the same mistake about those I hated?

            "I looked at him, and his face was half in shadow, half in light.  Of course, I was quite aware that whatever he had declared about 'intellectual discourse' was rubbish.  There was only one thing that would happen if I went with him, only one thing he was after tonight.  If I acquiesced, if I followed him to his chambers, I knew I would end up betraying you.  I didn't want to do that, Sirius.

            "But I also knew then, as I never thought I would, what you had meant about two a.m.  Because at that moment, while Severus was waiting for an answer and I was searching for one to give him, the clock chimed twice.  And I felt that demon on my shoulder, felt its bird-like claws digging into my skin.

            "So I went with him.  No, not because I loved him like I love you; not because I wanted and trusted him like I had always wanted and trusted you.  Not even because I wanted to feel the palest shadow of what I had felt with you every time.  But because you had been right.  It was two a.m., and I would have done anything not to be alone then.

            "It's morning now, and I'm back in the teacher's lounge, grading those papers that should have kept my hands busy, but weren't enough.  There's no one here; everyone's gone down to breakfast.  I didn't though— couldn't.  He would be there, acting the same way he did before the ice began to thaw.  Actually, maybe even worse than that, because I left him as soon as the sun rose, and I think he knows why.  In any case, he knows that I still love you.  And that knowledge, coupled with last night, would engender more animosity than I can stand right now.

            "I'm not hungry anyway.

            "That's why I'm here, saying this- because talking is easier than facing things head-on.  And talking is even better when the person you're talking to is most likely not listening.  I'm a coward, but I'm also cold and broken, too broken to get through two a.m. alone.  Maybe this cold comfort is in itself enough punishment for me.

            "But I have done an auditory-net spell, sending thousands of invisible orbs with this message locked inside in all directions.  They're designed to be picked up by only you, so perhaps this will not go unheard.  I don't know.

            "I'm sorry, Sirius."

            Remus waved his wand.  "_Fini transitum."_  He felt, rather than saw, the thousands of orbs stream forth from his body, traveling to where he could not, to say the things he had not the courage to say in person.

*****

            Somewhere deep in the forest, a great black dog's eyes snap open.  Its ears prick up, as if receiving some sort of transmission.  As it listens, it begins to growl, a deep sound so angry that the leaves rustle in the canopy overhead as small creatures scamper away.  For in that growl lies thirteen years of pain, thirteen years of nightmares, and thirteen years of loneliness.

            Then, the dog shakes its massive head.  It barks softly to no one in particular, as if it has understood whatever it has just heard, and accepts it.  It lumbers to its feet, and begin to pad away through the leafy undergrowth towards the outskirts of the forest, and the castle beyond.

            And all the forest dwellers can talk about is their sense of foreboding, and the full moon that will hang in the sky tonight.


End file.
